Touch Blue

  “I’ll give ya sixty!”

  “Don’t sell it to anyone here, Tess!” Uncle Ned says. “An aquarium somewhere will pay some real money for a blue lobster. I bet Ben Phipps would keep it in the store tank awhile for you, sweetie. I’m sure he’d help you get the best price for it, too.”

  “Who are you calling ‘sweetie,’ Ned?” one of the fishermen teases.

  “Yeah. I keep telling ya, Ned. We’re just friends.”

  “Oh, shut up!” Uncle Ned says.

  I fill a bucket with seawater, not even wanting to risk putting this precious, strange thing in with the other lobsters.

  “What’ll happen to him?” Aaron asks.

  “He’ll probably live in a big city aquarium where people can admire him.” I turn the lobster sideways in my hand to be sure he’s blue all over.

  Aaron curls his upper lip, disgusted.

  “It’s better than being eaten,” I say.

  “To live in a strange place and have people watch you all day?”

  “He’s just a lobster!” I say. “They don’t have those kind of feelings.”

  The weather turns, bringing us in early. I’m glad, because every time I see Aaron looking concerned at the bucket and my lobster, I have to grit my teeth. I can’t believe he’s trying to make this wonderful gift into a guilty thing.

  As we pull up to the wharf, I see a crowd waiting for us. It looks like half the island has gathered near the bait shack.

  “Is your lobster very blue?” Libby runs down the wharf, her face glowing with excitement. “Or is he only a teeny bit blue?”

  I hold the lobster up to show everyone. Eben turns on his heel and marches away so fast Beast has to run to catch up.

  “Amazing!” Reverend Beal says. “A true wonder of nature.”

  “Have a look, boys,” Mr. Morrell says to Matthew and Henry. “You won’t see one of those every day!”

  “Such a striking color,” Mr. Moody adds. “He’ll be worth a pretty penny.” He grins at me. “Don’t spend all that money in one place!”

  “I’d like to buy a motor for my skiff with him,” I say.

  The lobster thrashes his tail, wiggling his spidery legs. Aaron walks by me, bumping my arm. He doesn’t say “sorry.”

  “What color do you suppose this lobster’d be cooked?” Margery Poule asks.

  Mr. Moody laughs. “This lobster’s worth more than eating.”

  “He’s tired, sweetie,” Uncle Ned says. “Best put him back.” No longer thrashing, the blue’s claws are down, his tail curled under.

  When I return the lobster to the bucket, he tries to shoot off backward, but there’s nowhere for him to go.

  He circles around and around.

  A Bethsaida talent show is a mixed bag. There’s some actual talent like Mrs. Graves, who can sing way up high without screeching (even if you can’t understand any of the words). Charlie Lunt plays the cello in the Portland Symphony Orchestra, and he usually brings a few of his musician friends over from the mainland to make a quartet.

  And now there’s Aaron.

  The rest of the show is more funny than good. Last year, the choir sang and then closed their eyes and started snoring when Reverend Beal pretended to give a sermon. Willie Buston always brings his dog, Barty. Last year, they both wore hats and sunglasses and sang “Soul Man.” Well, Willie sang — Barty howled. He howled when Mrs. Graves sang up high, too, but that wasn’t part of the act.

  Then there are always a few performances like Shelby Bowen’s baton twirling and Lee Fowler’s magic tricks that feel like time standing still. They’d be fine for half a minute or two, but the twirling and abracadabra-ing go on for so long that I usually have time to read my whole program — even the ads in the back.

  On the day of the talent show, I dress carefully and put the circle of blue sea glass and all my lucky things in my pocket. If ever there was a day I needed some good luck, it’s today.

  As I come down the stairs, I feel itchy all over. I hear Mom and another woman’s laughter from the kitchen.

  Aaron’s mother? Heart hammering, I burst into the kitchen.

  Mom and Natalie look up from their coffee cups at the table. “Hi, Tess! Look who I invited to the talent show!” Mom says. “I thought it would be a nice surprise for Aaron.”

  “Oh, glory! I mean, wow. Yes, that’s a big surprise.”

  “I couldn’t miss hearing Aaron play.” Natalie smiles at Mom. “And Grace is singing, too. Thank you for inviting me. So much of my job is being there for the hard moments in kids’ lives. It’s great to be invited to something happy.”

  “I’m delighted you could come,” Mom says.

  Natalie takes a sip of her coffee. “I’m so pleased to see Aaron joining in and becoming a part of things here. It’s exactly what he’s needed.”

  Mom smiles proudly. “We’ve left the honeymoon stage. He’s been showing some rebellion lately. Jacob and I think Aaron trusts us more now to show us his honest feelings.”

  A fake grin frozen on my face, I back slowly out of the kitchen, unable to break my stare.

  Natalie nods. “You’re the person who’s there, Kate. You’re standing in the place of his mom, and that’s going to bring up all kinds of mixed feelings for him. He’ll push you, because he needs to know if he can count on you and if you’re someone who will stay,” she adds as I turn for the staircase. “That’s always —”

  Racing upstairs, I head straight for Libby’s room. As soon as the door opens, I push past Libby into her room. “I need you to do something very, very important,” I say, pulling her bedroom door closed behind me. “But you’ll have to be sneaky.”

  “Really?” Already dressed in her talent show costume, Libby looks like an evil bee, rubbing her hands together gleefully. “Good.”

  “Natalie is downstairs. I don’t know if she’s ever seen Aaron’s mom or if his mom’s even coming, but I want you and Grace to keep Natalie busy and distracted at the talent show.”

  Libby nods, her antennae bobbing. “I’ll stick to her like pine pitch.”

  “Perfect,” I say. “I’ll save some seats in the front row. Make sure Natalie sits there so she doesn’t see anyone behind her.”

  As we head for the stairs, I touch the blue sea glass in my pocket. I think I have everything covered now, but just in case —

  Please let this all work out.

  It’s a tall order, but that’s what wishes are for.

  As people fill up the rows of folding chairs in the parish hall, Aaron waits on the piano bench at the edge of the stage. Holding the music book upright on his knees, his arms crossed along the top, he stares at the door to outside.

  I choose a seat where I can see both the stage and the doorway. It seems like half the island is already here: Uncle Ned, Aunt Barb, Doris Varney, Reverend Beal, Mrs. Coombs. Anna Day even brought her two-week-old new baby, Emma. People stop to smile and say how pretty the baby is. The Morrells are here with Henry and Matthew, and Sam is with the Webbers. Grace and Jenna wave as Natalie walks in with Mom, Dad, and Libby.

  “Sit here, Natalie!” Libby says loudly. “Right in the front row with me and Grace. We saved you a seat!”

  Natalie smiles. “How nice! Thank you, girls! Are you sure we should sit up front?”

  “Yes!” Libby winks at me so big her lip curls up and her bee antennae bobble.

  “The front row is the best place to see, because you don’t have to look over anyone’s hair,” Grace adds.

  “Hey, Jacob, how’s them new traps fishing?” I hear Uncle Ned joke.

  “I caught a whole bunch of big ugly ones yesterday,” Dad jokes back.

  I glance at Aaron, now drumming his fingers on the songbook. His face is toward the crowd, but his eyes are on the door.

  I know most of the people coming in, but there are a few strangers. I sneak extra looks at every woman I don’t know, but they’re all a “wrong” something to be Aaron’s mom: wrong age, wrong skin color, wrong size. Maybe his mom cou
ldn’t get a ride to the ferry?

  Mr. Moody steps to the center of the stage and taps the microphone to see if it works. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen and —” He glances at Willie Buston and Barty, both wearing Red Sox caps. “Animals!”

  “And insects!” Libby yells. “Grace and I are bees!”

  People laugh. I glance back to the doorway. Eben Calder steps in behind Ben Phipps. I look away fast. I don’t want Eben to think I was watching for him.

  I should’ve made a wish that he wouldn’t come.

  “Welcome to the Annual Bethsaida Island Talent Show! This year promises to be very entertaining! So, everyone, sit back and enjoy it. And to those of you performing, break a leg!”

  “Don’t worry,” Jenna whispers beside me. “It’ll be fine.”

  But between Eben coming and Aaron’s mom maybe not coming, I’m so nervous I can’t even enjoy Mrs. Graves’s ceiling-high singing or Charlie Lunt’s quartet. Shelby Bowen drops her baton four times, and Lee Fowler added a new magic trick this year — but he has to do it twice before it works right. The choir sings while doing a funny exercise routine, and Reverend Beal ends it with a somersault.

  “I’ll try” is pretty far from a promise. If she doesn’t come, Aaron’ll be devastated, and he’ll want to run away for certain, to make sure she’s okay.

  When it’s Libby and Grace’s turn, they flap their arms and buzz up onto the stage. Libby holds the microphone like it’s a black ice cream cone, so close to her mouth we hear every breath. “PLEASE DON’T HURT THE BEES!”

  Bob Chandler, the soundman, hurriedly turns the volume down on the mic. Anna Day’s baby starts crying.

  “We eat yellow stuff from trees!” Libby sings.

  I told Libby that wasn’t technically true, but she seemed to think rhyming mattered more than facts.

  “If you give a sneeze, we’ll sting you on your knees,” Grace sings.

  I don’t look up until it’s done. The old people think it’s adorable and clap loudly. Uncle Ned even whistles. Natalie gives Libby and Grace two thumbs-up.

  “And now, we have Tess Brooks and Jenna Ross!” Mr. Moody says.

  My hands are sweating. Singing is the last thing on earth I feel like doing right now.

  “Come on,” Jenna whispers, pulling my arm.

  Aaron plays an introduction as I step onto the stage. From the audience, Mom and Dad give me big smiles.

  Just get this over with. I swallow hard and lift the microphone. My arm is shaking so much I have to hold on to the mic with both hands.

  Jenna starts right in, but the first few words I sing come out really soft. I only let myself look at a few people: Libby swinging her feet under her chair and Mrs. Ellis’s head moving in time with the song. I glance quickly to Aaron, but he’s concentrating on his playing.

  As the second verse comes, I let myself pretend a little. Like when I was Lola wearing a brown scarf and a purple sequined hat. I sing louder.

  Ahead, my eye catches a small movement. A red-haired woman is standing at the back. Taking off her sunglasses, she looks around for a seat.

  She came.

  “Come on.” As the applause dies down, Jenna pulls my sleeve toward the edge of the stage. “We’re done!”

  My legs feel like they weigh a thousand pounds each. In all the times I imagined Aaron’s mother arriving at the talent show, I never imagined I’d feel afraid.

  “Now, we’re keeping it in the family,” Mr. Moody says. “Our final act is Aaron Spinney playing his trumpet for us.”

  What’s gonna happen when he sees her?

  “Sit down!” Jenna says between her teeth.

  I drop into my seat.

  In the audience, my parents smile proudly as Aaron gets up from the piano bench. Mom reaches over to squeeze Dad’s hand.

  Aaron moves a music stand to the front of the stage. He picks up his trumpet and blows into his mouth-piece to warm it. Stepping his feet apart, he glances at the audience.

  I know the second he sees her. He startles, just a little, and then he grins, lifting the trumpet higher.

  I shouldn’t draw any attention to her, but I have to look. His mother smiles back at Aaron, but her forehead is wrinkled, like she’s happy and worried at the same time.

  Sharp trumpet notes ring out, filling every corner of the parish hall. Aaron’s face changes with the music: his eyebrows lifting with the high notes and coming down with the low ones. He plays the song with a spirit that I almost never hear in his regular speaking voice. Any other day, I’d have gloated over Mrs. Coombs’s openmouthed amazement. But today, I barely look at anyone.

  He plays as well as I’ve ever heard him, holding those ending notes long, longer, until it seems like they’ll never stop — then a snappy last note, and it’s over.

  The applause doesn’t start immediately — it’s like everyone has to catch their breath with him. But when the clapping starts, it’s louder than for any other act. His mother stands. She’s crying, giving him a standing ovation.

  I gasp. Sit down!

  Heads turn to look. I glance to Natalie. She turns around. Other people get to their feet, too, but I notice Eben stays in his folding chair, his arms crossed over his stomach. He glances at Aaron, then at Aaron’s mom, and then to me.

  I look away fast.

  “Wasn’t that wonderful!” Mr. Moody says. “We certainly ended this year’s talent show on a high note! I think this was our best year ever. Wouldn’t you all agree?” After the applause dies down again, he smiles. “And now Ben Phipps has an announcement!”

  Mr. Phipps stands up and looks right at me. “I found a buyer for Tess’s lobster. That blue’s gonna have to learn to say ‘y’all’ instead of ‘ayuh,’ because he’ll be heading to an aquarium in Texas!”

  People are laughing at his joke, but I can’t even smile.

  “Congratulations!” Mr. Moody grins at me. “You have lots of talented people at your house, Jacob and Kate!”

  Dad nods. “I know it.”

  “We have a wonderful family,” Mom says.

  “Aaron’s not your family.” Eben uncrosses his arms, looking right at Aaron. “He’s an orphan.”

  Dad jumps out of his chair, and Mom doesn’t even lift a hand to stop him. But before he can get to Eben, Libby yells out, “Shows what you know, stinky breath!” She points. “That’s his mother!”

  Natalie stands up, and Libby gasps, dropping her hand back to her side. “I’m sorry, Tess! I didn’t mean to say it!”

  Aaron hurries off the stage toward his mother. Dad turns slowly to look back to me. And I know, sure as certain.

  I’m in big trouble.

  “I have to trust that my families will act in the best interests of the children in their care.” Natalie sits at our kitchen table, her untouched white coffee cup in front of her. “There are reasons for these rules. You can’t just decide which ones you’ll follow and which ones you’ll break.”

  “Kate and I didn’t know about this,” Dad says.

  Carrie Spinney sits in my chair at our kitchen table. Her long red hair is pulled back straight on each side of her face and held behind with a silver barrette. Up close, she looks pale and older than I expected, like a washed-out version of the person in Aaron’s photo. One finger curls through the handle of the cup in front of her, but her eyes are on Aaron. “You played so beautifully today. I had no idea you were such a musician.”

  Beside her, Aaron looks at the full, untouched glass of water in his hand.

  “Remember the toy piano you had? And all your stuffed animals?” Ms. Spinney asks Aaron softly. “I still have them.”

  His finger traces a droplet down the side of his glass. “Why didn’t you ever send them to Grandma’s for me?”

  “I wanted them for when you came home.”

  He wipes his finger on his shirt. “Maybe it would’ve helped me to have them. Did you ever think of that?”

  She furrows her brow and glances to Natalie and Mom and then over to Dad
and me standing at the counter. “Do you want me to mail them to you now?” She slides her finger out of the cup’s handle.

  “I don’t care about stuffed animals anymore.”

  “I like stuffed animals.” Libby sits across Mom’s lap with one arm around her neck. Catching me watching her, Mom gives me the same disappointed-in-you look she gives kids who get a failing grade on a quiz. In her hand she holds the letter I wrote to Aaron’s mother.

  “You can’t imagine how hard it is not to have you home,” Ms. Spinney says to Aaron. “Not to be able to just open the back door and yell for you to come in for supper. I don’t even know what you might be having for supper.”

  “Ms. Spinney, this is not helping Aaron,” Natalie says, an edge to her voice. “What he needs —”

  “We have ocean food a lot,” Libby says.

  Dad throws me a look, tipping his head toward the screen door. I know he wants me to take Libby outside. But I can’t move.

  “When can I live with you?” Aaron asks.

  Natalie looks mad enough to burst. “This has gone far enough.”

  “No, it hasn’t!” Aaron says. “I need to know if it’s ever going to happen.”

  Carrie Spinney touches her folded-up sunglasses on her napkin. She doesn’t meet his eyes. “Honey, not for a while. Maybe when I have my own —”

  “It’s never going to happen! Why can’t you just say that?” he asks. “Grandma said I shouldn’t wait for you anymore, because you loved drinking too much to stop. That’s why you stopped trying to get me back. I yelled at Grandma for saying that, but it’s the truth! You love drinking more than me!”

  “That’s not true. I love you more than anything.” Ms. Spinney shoots Natalie an angry look. “The program they made me do wasn’t helping.”

  “You couldn’t have pretended?” Aaron asks.

  “That was a hard time for me. It’s different now.” But seeing her hands quiver, she seems only barely okay. “I just wanted to see you. Someday —”